The Very Best
by Hannaadi88
Summary: Captain Kirkland had it all: fame, fortune and the loyalty of an honest crew. As honest as a group of pirates could be, of course. There was absolutely nothing the captain couldn't get his hands on, nothing beyond his control. ...until he met Alfred Jones.


The colorful line of people standing in front of him tempted Arthur to try his hand at waxing poetry after all those years, even after the disastrous night at the tavern and the split lip which had remained with him for a few good weeks as a reminder to stick to what he knew best; any form of art wasn't one of them. Still, had he possessed the skills of an artist, Arthur would have enjoyed describing the disheveled men covered in blood and bruises, yet who wore wide smiles displaying their rotten teeth to all.

Their torn shirts and matted hair were perhaps not as lyrical as Arthur fancied, but the contrast between their state and the treasure piled in front of them was amazing to behold. The metallic scent of iron in all shapes and forms permeated the salty sea air and left little to the imagination of what had transpired not an hour before.

Battle was what a pirate lived for, and Arthur's crew was no exception.

"Gentlemen," he called out, standing before them and clearing his throat. The group quietened immediately, straightening their backs not unlike the military they detested and lowering their eyes to the deck. Arthur wouldn't settle for less. Respect needed to be earned, and as long as his crew paid their due, he had no reason to treat them with anything else.

After all, a captain who trusted no one was a fool.

Arthur nodded at the pile of loot in front of him with a wide smile. "Well done, men! We have collected enough for every man to go to bed happy tonight. You have all earned your share," he paused, allowing his smile to remain on his face for one last stretch before it faded into a severe frown.

"However, if it comes to my attention or to the Quartermaster's that one of you have pocketed treasure without disclosing it and putting it in the communal pot, they will be punished as I see fit."

A few men shifted uncomfortably. Under Arthur's watchful eye, one of the men stepped forward and pulled out a silver watch from his waistband and set it carefully on top of the pile, avoiding his captain's piercing look. Arthur merely narrowed his eyes and ran them over the rest of the crew, meeting each man's gaze and holding it before moving on to the next.

His gaze lingered on Jones. Alfred, as the youngest of the crew at only nineteen, had never been in a raid before. His arm was bandaged and there was a jagged cut on his cheek, but he appeared otherwise unscathed. If you were to judge by his ever-sunny disposition, he'd have spent his afternoon at the beach rather than on a rival vessel.

As overbearing as the youth's optimism was, Arthur found his enthusiasm a refreshing counter to his lengthy experience in the unforgiving world of crime. He, well, made him feel young, as the cliche was fond of echoing at every opportunity in his mind.

It didn't help that he found him equally attractive as he did annoying.

Arthur met Alfred's eyes and the lad dared a hesitant smile, one that Arthur had to struggle not to return. He made note to inquire about his cabin boy's wounds later on that day and was ready to move on to the next man when his eyes caught a lump beneath Alfred's shirt.

His eyes lowered to Alfred's chest and there, beneath his collar, was a consistent lump which circled his shoulders. Not unlike a necklace. Alfred's gaze stayed firmly on his face, unwavering at Arthur's discovery despite the rapid pallor replacing his usual rosy complexion. Arthur's lips pressed in a thin line.

...and his eyes continued to the next man. He could feel Alfred's confusion but refused to acknowledge it with another look.

It was clear that the boy had pocketed a necklace, perhaps a golden chain. Be it his inexperience which could not warn him of the protocol or his bloody excitement which made him forget the chain around his neck, Arthur doubted Alfred had a cheating bone in his body.

The poker face which had followed Arthur's discovery, however, remained with him as he continued down the deck towards his cabin. Perhaps Alfred had indeed meant to keep the treasure to himself.

It was time to make his move.

.x.

"Jones!"

The boy visibly stiffened and turned around, gripping the mop tightly in his hand. The tune he had been humming had died in his throat and Arthur secretly congratulated himself. A cowed young cabin boy was turning out to be far more attractive than he had initially thought.

Approaching the boy was exactly as he had predicted; Alfred had stood his ground and was watching him carefully as he moved closer. The weary expression he wore wasn't strictly encouraging, but at least Alfred had maintained his coloring. Unlike last time.

Arthur came to a stop in front of the boy and smiled down in what he imagined was a kind smile. He placed his hand on Alfred's shoulder and clasped it firmly, shaking it ever so slightly in commanderie. The boy had flinched, but did not pull away from his grasp. A better start than others, for sure.

"No need to look so frightened, boy. I'm not going to eat you," he joked, baring his teeth as he laughed. Alfred mimicked him weakly, but the knuckles around his mop turned white. He mumbled something unintelligible, and Arthur frowned.

"What was that? I'm afraid I didn't quite catch that."

Alfred absently licked his chapped lips in hesitation and Arthur couldn't help but watch in fascination until Alfred cleared his throat.

"I said: not fucking likely. Can't help but be careful after what happened to Nick."

Apparently being observed as frightened had riled Alfred up enough to say his mind, despite the way he shook as he said it. His cheeks were flushed and his ears pink, but there was no denying the determination in his eyes. Arthur would have gladly admired them if he hadn't been busy containing himself.

The grip on Alfred's shoulder was unrelenting. "What happened to Nick was an unfortunate incident, Jones, though I won't lie and say that he didn't have it coming. Rest assured, I will never hurt you. Not unless you give me a reason to."

Arthur paused, waiting for the impact to settle before meeting Alfred's eyes questioningly.

"Is there something you want to tell me, Alfred?"

"Of course not," Alfred muttered and yanked his shoulder in an attempt to get away from Arthur's hold. Arthur released him and watched him stonily as the boy leaned down to pick up his bucket and walked away. The flash of guilt in the boy's baby blues was all he had needed, after all.

.x.

There was much to celebrate. A successful raid, a looming pile of loot and minimal injuries all around- what was there not to drink to? And drink they did. Arthur had generously agreed to empty the rum barrels in storage, knowing that their next docking was only a few days away. They could afford the expense, and there was nothing more uplifting (not to mention secure) than a happy crew.

"For someone who has imbibed so much, your sour look is undeserved, mon cher," a smooth voice murmured against his ear, sending a small shiver down Arthur's spine. He had come to expect a heady presence looming nearby whenever alcohol was involved. Francis was quite the affectionate drunk.

When he received nothing but a disinterested grunt in response, however, Francis wrapped his arms around Arthur's shoulders and played with the lapels of his burgundy jacket. "Why so glum, chum?" he mimicked with a snort, resting his chin on top of Arthur's head. "Mon Dieu, you English have the oddest phrases."

"If you really think so, perhaps you should stick to your own bloody language," Arthur snapped, downing the last of his drink. He didn't shrug Francis off like he usually did while sober, though.

The man hummed, brushing his knuckles against Arthur's cheek. "But if I did so, nobody would understand me, captain."

Why on earth did he bother with him? "That would be the point, Bonnefoy."

Francis leaned down and nipped the shell of his ear while huffing in indignation. He then continued to press a series of feather-light kisses to the column of his neck, applying just enough pressure to make Arthur's eyes flutter and his shoulders sag.

Oh, yeah. That's why.

"You do not seem to mind my voice while I am crying out your name," Francis pointed out softly, circling Arthur to settle himself in his lap. Arthur's arms immediately circled themselves around the man's waist out of habit, holding him closer in a warm haze. He closed his eyes briefly as his neck was assaulted with sharp nips and soft lips.

"I'm too busy fucking you to care," he replied absently, digging his nails into Francis's flesh and opening his eyes. "In fact, if it weren't for-"

Arthur trailed off. During the time he had taken to finish his drink and secure himself a lay for the night, Jones had managed to enter the room and begin nursing his own drink, accompanied by a burly man. Arthur's eyes narrowed as he watched the crew member crowd in on his cabin boy.

"...Captain?" an irritated voice snapped him back into focus. The shapely man in his lap was shifting purposefully in an obvious attempt to win back his attention. "Come, you are tired and tense. Allow me to help you to bed."

The offer was tempting, but the hand which he now observed slithering up Alfred's thigh made his blood boil. Roughly, he pushed Francis off of him with a curt dismissal and walked up to the table where a large group of his crew were sitting. As they saw him approach they raised their tankards in a rowdy salute, but their chatter was cut off when Arthur grabbed the man closest to Alfred by the collar and hoisted him out of his seat.

"Lay one more finger on him and you'll lose it," he snarled, challenging the slightly larger man with his fierce gaze. The crew member looked taken aback before his face hardened.

"'scuze me, captain, but you don't own the boy. I have just as much of a claim on him as you do."

Arthur's grip grew tighter on the man's collar. "You would drop any such claims if you knew what was good for you, Smith. Immediately."

His free hand edged down to his side, curling his fingers around the holster at his hip. Smith looked down and visibly paled before taking a step back.

"Anything you say, captain," he grit his teeth, all while keeping his eyes trained carefully on Arthur's hip. Arthur watched in cold satisfaction as the man backed out of the room with only a glare. He would take care of him later.

For now, however...

Arthur turned to look at Alfred, who was staring at him in wide-eyed confusion. Oh, how delectable he looked. Arthur yearned to see those eyes look up at him with an unmistakable glaze, that rosebud mouth of his stretched satisfyingly around his flesh...

"Jones," he barked, startling the teen. "My quarters. Now."

They walked in an awkward silence, Arthur leading the way down the halls with Alfred following him quietly, but the moment the door closed behind them, Arthur's ears were assaulted with a flurry of words.

"What the hell was that out there?" Alfred frowned, folding his arms against his chest. "You don't own me. Nobody owns me! I joined this crew out of my own free will, I wasn't sold or apprenticed to anyone. I know you're captain and all, but you can't just go around scaring off anyone who wants to talk to me! I don't-"

"Oh do shut up," Arthur cut him off irritably, pushing Alfred back a few steps until his back slammed against the wall. His eyes widened in panic at the impact and was too slow in stopping Arthur from grabbing his arms and pinning them to the wall as well as he crowded in on him.

"W-what are you doing?!" Alfred demanded with the last of his bravado, struggling against the constricting weight to no avail- Arthur wasn't about to let the younger man go this time. Arthur maintained his hold and with one swift move, slitted his mouth against Alfred's and pressed them together in a first, bruising kiss.

He pulled away after a moment with a smirk. "Speechless, aren't you? If I knew that a kiss was all it took, I'd have done it ages ago."

Alfred spluttered, cheeks growing red. "You can't do this!"

"Can't I?" Arthur mused, his expression growing dark. Ever so carefully, he maneuvered his hold of Alfred's wrists so that one hand managed to restrain them both. His free hand trailed down Alfred's chest ever so casually, tracing the rope shaped imprint beneath the fabric while giving the boy a meaningful look.

Alfred swallowed thickly.

"Is there anything you want to tell me, Alfred?" he said softly, breathing against Alfred's ear. The boy squirmed, but said nothing.

Arthur clucked his tongue. "Fine. Have it your way," he said simply before delving his hand down the front of Alfred's shirt and grabbing the golden chain beneath. He yanked it out from under the fabric and twisted it around Alfred's neck in a flick of the wrist, pulling it up as he shoved Alfred down to his knees, pressing his foot against the boy's shoulder for good measure.

Gasping for air, Alfred's hands flew to his neck as he struggled against the chain. The more he struggled, the higher Arthur pulled the chain until the youth stopped struggling and was looking up at him in a silent plea.

Satisfied with Alfred's compliance, Arthur eased the pressure around Alfred's neck and watched as the boy coughed and inhaled gratefully, tears in his eyes. When he dared look up at him again, the defiance was gone from his eyes.

"Now, let's try this again. Do you have anything to confess?"

Alfred coughed for a bit longer before he tried to clear his throat and speak. His voice was hoarse when he finally managed to talk.

"I stole this necklace," he whispered, closing his eyes in shame. "I took it and didn't report it."

"There," Arthur cooed, brushing his fingers through Alfred's hair. "That wasn't hard now, was it? Wait, I take that back," he smiled smugly as his eyes zeroed on Alfred's crotch. The foot on the other's shoulder traveled down Alfred's torso until it stopped between his legs, prodding the bulge with his heel. "This is certainly hard. I admit, I never took you for that kind of guy..."

Alfred's face reddened in mortification. "Oh God," he whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut as his hips bucked instinctively against Arthur's shoe. "I'm so sorry."

"What was that?" Arthur gently pulled on the chain and pressed harder with his foot, watching in fascination as Alfred's body writhed. "You'll have to be louder, love."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Alfred chanted, tears forming at the edges of his blue eyes and hands straining at the pressure around his neck. He gasped and choked, yet his hips continued to buck unabashedly against Arthur's administrations.

Satisfied, Arthur eased his hold on the chain and allowed Alfred to catch his breath, admiring the pained look on his face combined with the flush of pleasure.

The boy was absolutely gorgeous.

"Now that you have admitted your sin and shown regret, I think it is time for us to proceed to the next stage of the evening," Arthur gradually announced, watching closely as Alfred stiffened in what he hoped was apprehension. Good, they were making progress.

Alfred shifted on the floor, still panting lightly as he tried to regain control over his breathing pattern. He looked up at Arthur wearily, fingering the golden chain around his neck carefully.

"...what else is there?" he whispered.

"Atonement, m'boy," Arthur grinned. "Don't worry your pretty head- you won't be punished like Nick," he added smoothly, before Alfred might try to resist. "No. I have something special in mind for a lad like you."

Letting go of the chain, Arthur walked towards the other side of the cabin where his bed had been situated and sat down on the edge of it, patting his lap expectantly. Alfred's eyes followed him hesitantly before risking a glance at the door.

Just as Arthur had expected, however, the boy chose to walk over to him and position himself on the floor in front of him rather than risk an escape. Alfred wasn't that foolish.

"That's it," Arthur cupped Alfred's chin in his palm and brushed his thumb over his lips. "You're doing wonderfully. Just a bit more, and everything will be forgiven."

The way Alfred looked up at him hopefully made Arthur pause. He wanted to treasure the boy, to shower him with gifts and protect him from all the evil in the world. From the likes of him.

But before he could do that, he reminded himself, he had to teach the boy a lesson. To give him the proper respect he deserved.

Delicately, he pressed his thumb against Alfred's lower lip in a silent demand. Obediently, Alfred opened his mouth and allowed the digit to trace his teeth and walls for a few moments before the thumb pressed down. Hard.

"Open your mouth," Arthur instructed and was relieved to have encountered no complaint. Alfred was willing and pliant. As his fingers continued to trace the bow of the boy's lips, his other hand delved between his legs and undid the fastenings of his breeches, pulling and pushing hard enough for him to expose his cock.

One look between them was all it took for Alfred to lean forward and take him in his mouth, sucking lightly around the head after gagging at the initial intake. Arthur's hands found purchase in Alfred's hair as he waited for the boy to adjust. By the way Alfred had tried to take him all the way in on the first try, he could tell that he was inexperienced, but that was fine. Good, even. That way he could train and teach Alfred according to his own preferences. Shape and mold him into the perfect lover a captain could take.

Alfred's attempts at deepthroating him were doing him more harm than good, however. Sighing, Arthur pulled at his hair and stilled Alfred's movement. Wordlessly, he began to set a pace, grunting in pleasure at the wonderfully damp tightness engulfing him. Alfred was no pro, but lord if he didn't feel absolutely delicious.

He lost track of his hands, allowing them to pump Alfred's mouth around him at will until he felt the boy's throat convulse around him and heard him gagging. Pausing, he opened his eyes and looked over the boy for damage.

Bleary eyes, puffed lips and cherry red cheeks greeted his inspection. Oh, if only Alfred knew how delectable he looked...

The boy looked like he wasn't capable of finishing what he started, however, and if he were to judge by Alfred's ragged breathing, he had never been told to breathe through his nose while giving head. Poor thing.

Arthur pulled out slowly with a sweet smile and took himself in his hand, keeping Alfred in place as he finished himself off, grunting as white ribbons landed on Alfred's lips and cheek. The boy looked startled and shut his eyes tight until Arthur was fully spent.

Arthur couldn't help but beam in satisfaction.

He guided Alfred up to his feet and pulled him down for a kiss, salty and painful but worth every wince. Arthur wrapped his arms around Alfred's hips and pulled him down onto his lap, pulling them flush together and resting Alfred's head against his shoulder soothingly. He could feel the boy's arousal prod impatiently against his stomach.

"You're perfect for me," he murmured against Alfred's skin, thriving on the way the boy shivered in his arms, grinding down against him. "You're absolutely perfect. And mine. All mine."

Alfred whined and pulled back, flushed and hot. "I need you," he bit his lip, wrapping his arms around Arthur's neck. "Please...!"

"Admit it," Arthur hissed, letting go of one side of Alfred's hips in favor of palming the boy in his arms. "Say you're mine, and I'll give you the world."

"I'm yours," Alfred gushed, hesitation gone. "I'm all yours. Now please, touch me!"

Arthur's lips curled in a smug smile.

"Of course, poppet," he kissed the boy's cheek, lapping at the rapidly drying liquid. "Of course. I take care of my own. And you, Alfred," he delved his hand beneath the other's breeches and relished the pleased cry as his hand circled his cock and gave it a gentle squeeze."

"-you deserve the very best."


End file.
